Yours Very Truly, Tony
by Dixie Dewdrop
Summary: An adult Tony discovers unexpected snapshot descriptions of his childhood. This is part of my Fate series.
1. Promise

Promise

A clap of thunder reverberated throughout the house and the table's occupants regarded each other with raised eyebrows.

Jethro Gibbs set down his coffee cup and narrowed his gaze out the breakfast room window. His vivid blue eyes appraised the gloomy horizon. "It looks like it is coming down in sheets out there."

Maria stood and began clearing empty dishes. "Si, maybe the tropical storm has reached us here in the village. Campeche is not that far."

Her voice reflected some of her worry at the storm's intensity.

Tony's fork, laden with scrambled eggs, stopped midway to his mouth and he protested, "No, no, no! Lorenzo and I have plans today- important plans."

Gibbs shook his head. "Nope, I think that will be a no go. This weather looks rough." He pushed back his chair with finality and rose, grabbing dishes to take with him to the sink. "Go to your plan B, Son."

Finishing his eggs and taking a swallow of juice, Tony replied with evident disappointment, "No plan B exists because I only want plan A, to hang out with Lorenzo."

Crossing his arms across his chest he puffed out his lip in a disappointed pout.

Even with a scowl plastered across his face, Tony was an extremely handsome young man. Finally all grown to a height of over six feet, his athletic physique, glimmering green eyes, and sparkling personality drew people to him like a magnet.

His abuela considered him her very own pride and joy, despite his current upset.

Rinsing the last few dishes before Jethro loaded them into the machine, the older woman spoke soothingly in the voice she had always employed to calm him. "Well, Bambino, you can see su primo- your cousin, another day. Instead, you will help me, and this day will be muy perfecto because we will work in the storage room."

"You announce that like I have won a sweepstakes or something, Abuela." Tony grumbled, drinking the rest of his juice down in a single gulp and then jumping up from his seat.

He grabbed the last of the dishes on the table and carried them to the sink to reassure her and dissuade her from thoughts of chores. "I believe I can find something to entertain myself if I put my mind to it, but thank you so much for the suggestion."

Maria cut off the water and regarded him, obviously debating whether to simply commandeer his help or not.

With genuine affection, he leaned down and kissed her cheek. "Te amo, Abuela mia."

She reached up and rubbed his cheek. "Y yo- and I love you, Antonio."

Tony leaned against the counter and pursed his lips thoughtfully. At twenty four and a brand new college graduate, he had a couple of weeks before he needed to seriously job hunt and take on adult responsibilities. Until then, though, he was spending free time as he usually did, at the family's Mexican home.

He regarded his father, intent upon arranging the dishes so that they strategically had the finest shot at cleanliness once the dishwasher cycle began. His dad possessed a sharp, analytical mind which surfaced even during mundane household tasks.

Jethro Gibbs was a good man, a superb NCIS agent, and an extraordinary father.

Resigned to the inevitable, Tony sighed dramatically. "Ok, Abuela, you have me captive here. Consider me just pleased as punch to do whatever you want done in the storage room."

She and Gibbs laughed at his tone of voice and he grinned, then pointed towards the hall. "I will meet you in the chamber of chores in half an hour."

True to his word, Tony returned at the appointed time to find Gibbs on a ladder in their storage room, just beginning to construct a couple of additional shelves from boards he had propped against the ladder. His dad's woodwork and construction served dually as therapy and hobby.

Maria stood on a shorter ladder and held a marker and a roll of masking tape. Noticing Tony, his abuela explained that as she examined the contents of boxes, she listed the inventories on the tape and stuck those content listings to each container.

Pointing, she directed Tony to the opposite side of the room, and showed him the extra tape and markers she had set there for him.

The trio worked in companionable silence for nearly an hour before Tony dropped one of the containers he had attempted to move. He hurriedly began to herd the contents and shove them back into the interior, but one of the articles caught his attention.

"Abuela," he called, jabbing a finger towards the carton. "This box holds lots of my stuff from different ages- I mean when I was a kid."

She eyed the box and nodded in agreement. "Si, that box I put on the top of the shelf, I remember. I have just put some mementos in here and there, nieto."

Intrigued, Tony sat down crosslegged on the floor and pulled the container close to take a better look. Almost all of his childhood mementos had been carefully catalogued and packed up by Maria over the years, with dates on the boxes as reference points. This one, though, must have been his abuela's catch all box, to house things she had missed.

Reaching into the depths, he grabbed a book from the odd assortment. Closer inspection identified it as a ragged journal.

Holding it up for Maria to see, he laughed with delight. "This is my very first diary!"

Running his fingers across the frayed cover he smoothed down a tear at the edge which exposed the cardboard and regarded it excitedly.

Jethro glanced down at his son's find. "That is not familiar. When did you get that diary, Son?"

"Dad," Tony chided, "Santa brought me this one when I was seven- or maybe eight, the very first one I ever got."

Jethro peered over his glasses at the journal and grunted, then turned back to his own task.

Maria, intent upon her own agenda as well, paid it even less consideration.

Annoyed at the lack of fanfare, Tony called out impatiently, "Abuela, look, and pay attention please. Se presta atencion- this is my very own first diary."

She turned long enough to flash a smile in his direction, "Muy bien, nieto, good, grandson."

Disappointed in their lack of passionate response, Tony grasped the book against him and then took a better look. "Let me correct myself. It was not Christmas, but on my birthday when I got this as a present."

Neither Maria nor Jethro responded to the clarification, intent upon their own tasks.

Reaching up and grabbing the edge of a shelf, he pulled himself to his feet and announced with a note of petulance, "Well, since my dad does not care and my grandmother does not care about a chronicle of my childhood, I will excuse myself and go read and remember all by very own self."

"Halt," Gibbs ordered, his voice joining that of Maria.

She pointed towards a shelf of boxes. "You go nowhere- en ninguna parte- until you finish this, Antonio. Then you may read your story."

Sighing in annoyance, Tony set the diary on the nearest shelf for safekeeping and grabbed one of the containers his grandmother identified. "Ok, but I think both of you are heartless for not allowing me to go immediately to read what I wrote in those pages. You two managed to handicap the emotional growth I could have gained with my personal activity, one which would have kept me from being underfoot. I think I'll tell Ducky about this and see if I will have damage fallout for years to come."

His audience did not bother to even acknowledge his words.

Resigned that leniency eluded him, Tony grabbed another box and got back to work.

Jethro glanced over at Maria and smirked.


	2. Sincerity

Sincerity

Evening dawned before Tony found himself able to investigate the journal. Sprawled on the sofa with several throw pillows behind him, he regarded his father, who sat a few feet away engrossed in a thick volume.

"What are you reading, Dad?"

Jethro regarded him above his glasses. "This is an account of how snipers train in various parts of the world."

"Hmmm…" Tony responded, "sounds positively riveting."

His father grinned. "Want me to read out loud, Son?"

"Out loud what?" Maria queried, setting a plate of cookies on the coffee table before joining Tony on the sofa. She pulled pastel coloured yarn and knitting needles from the basket she kept by the couch.

Snatching one of the treats and taking a large bite Tony winked at her. "Abuela, Dad is reading one of those war strategy books, something not particularly delightful for the other occupants of the room."

"Did I say I planned to share any of this with you?" Jethro responded, raising his eyebrows as he directed a pseudo glare at his son.

"Nope, and that decision is a wise one." Tony grabbed the pillows behind him and rearranged himself so that Maria's lap pillowed his head.

Raising up, he gave her a quick kiss. "Te amo, Abuela mia."

She brushed back his hair, "Yo, tambien- I, too-"

Opening the book's preface page, Tony silently read what he had written so sincerely so many years before.

"_This is the property of Tony. Do not read it at all unless I say so!"_

He smiled to himself at the little boy threat, thinking he must have thought himself pretty tough with his choice of words. Turning the page, he continued.

"_Dear Diary,_

_I just had my birthday. I am eight years old and I have a bike and Abuela made me a birthday cake like a Farrarry. It was good and all my friends came here. Grandpa came two from Pencilvaneya. Yours very truly, Tony."_

Tony grinned at the misspelled words. Luckily, he had matured into a pretty good speller.

His next entry followed several days later.

"_Dear Diary,_

_We have to fly in the airplane tomorrow because Daddy already got the tickets. I have to go to school soon in Deecee. Abuela likes it when we come to Mexico. I have a best friend named Miguel. Emily is his sister and she wants to be my girlfriend so I do not like her. She tries to kiss me and hold my hands. She is yucky! Yours very truly, Tony"_

Maria shifted and Tony raised his head up to let her settle before he rested against her again. He turned the page.

"_Dear Diary,_

_Daddy and Abuela think I am a baby. They say no I can not go to Macknoya Park and other kids go there. Dylan is my best friend and he lives down the street. He is my best American friend and Miguel is my best friend in Mexico. Sometimes we play at his house but most times we play at my house. Yours very truly, Tony."_

Tony put the journal down on his chest and gazed out the window. The rain dropped down steadily and the sky barely retained a streak of light.

He consulted the next entry.

"_Dear Diary,_

_I just got back from football practis. I like football and basketball and socker and baseball. Abuela let me drink a Coke after practis and that was nice. Yours very truly, Tony."_

Jethro stood up and stretched. "I am heading to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. Anyone want anything while I am in there?"

Maria and Tony both declined the offer.

The next entry followed a month later.

"_Dear Diary,_

_Today Mrs. Mallard gave me money because I helped rake all those leaves. Dad said tomorrow we can go to the store so I can bye a toy or something."_

An update occurred the next day.

"_Dear Diary,_

_I am very mad now at my daddy. He said he would take me to the store and then he said not until the weekend. The he said he had to go back to woek and when I kept telling him he could two take me and he said I backtalked and now I am sent to my room. He is mean. Yours very truly, Tony." _

Tony smiled at the emotion of the entry. He did not specifically remember the incident, but could envision the futile argument with his father.

Jethro returned and pointed at the diary. "Learning anything new, Son?"

"Just that I was dramatic," Tony concluded before pulling himself up to a sitting position. Yawning widely, he pointed in the direction of his room. "I need a nap."

The other two watched him as he disappeared down the hall.

"I still see the little boy in him," Maria admitted, visually following her baby's route.

"As do I," Jethro agreed. "We could argue that he has stayed that little boy."

Down the hall the young man did not lose time returning to his mission. Kicking off his shoes, Tony threw himself on his bed and again located his place in the account. Turning the page, he found he had next recorded his thoughts a week later.

"_Dear Diary,_

_I do not love Dad and Abuela any more and I am very, very, very upset. It is all their fault because they treat me like a baby and the only thing I did I went to Dylan's house after school. And I stayed there and did not even go anywhere else…."_

Tony rolled over and propped an arm behind his head. He remembered that particular afternoon pretty vividly because of the aftermath that greeted him. He had not bothered to ask Maria's permission to go anywhere, and when the bus got to his house after school and he did not disembark, it had led to a frantic search of their neighborhood to locate him.

Recalling the day, Tony closed his eyes and watched the memory play in its entirety. It was not until suppertime that Maria discovered his whereabouts, when Dylan's mom made it home and relieved the sitter, who had assumed Tony had prior permission to visit.

Jethro tore Tony's bottom up for that, making sure that every smack of his hand on his son's bottom drove home his and Maria's unhappy response to his decision. Unable to squirm loose from his father's hold, Tony's attempts to exonerate himself quickly turned into loud sobbing pleas to stop the burning sting of the reprimand.

Shaking his head and wrinkling his nose in response, Tony recalled his embarrassment as he had slid his clothing away from his rear end that afternoon.

Nevertheless, he had instantaneously focused upon his agony and away from his modesty once his daddy yanked him across his lap and into the line of fire.

Finally opening his eyes, Tony concluded the recollection by reading his own words. "_…and Dad spanked me for nothing and Abuela made me go to my room and I did not even get to see television. When I am grown I will go anywhere I want and they can not tell me what to do. EVER! EVER! EVER! Yours very truly, Tony."_

Licking his lips, Tony sympathized with his younger, victimized perception for several moments before dismissing it to move into his adult perspective. Thinking of that afternoon now as a grown man, he admitted that he deserved every bit of that punishment.

His father and grandmother must have barely staved off panic at his disappearance after school.

Despite the vehement threat of not forgiving the two most precious adults in his world, the next entry came a week later and the angry tone had mellowed.

"_Dear Diary,_

_Dad helped coach my game today because my real coach's wife had a baby yesterday. He did a good job because he is kinda smart about football. He always comes to my games and says he is proud of me even when we lose. He loves me very much but I love him. Yours very truly, Tony."_

Shortly after that one, he wrote about his grandmother, and that journal entry appeared on the diary's next-to-the-last page.

"_Dear Diary,_

_It is almost time for Christmas and we will go to Campeachy in Mexico. That is where my abuela is from and now we have a house there. My grandmother says she loves the United States to but I know she likes where ever I live because I am her only grandson. But really I am not because she is not really my grandmama like my grandpa is really my grandpa because he is Dad's dad. She loves me best of anybody in the world and I love her. I am going to by her a book on gardens for Christmas because she likes to plant things. Yours very truly, Tony."_

Tony stared at the last page of the book with disappointment. The trip down memory lane had allowed him a day of entertainment, and a glimpse into little boy Tony's thoughts.

Resigned, he sighed and read the conclusion.

"_Dear Diary, _

_This is the last page and maybe I will get another diary for Christmas. I hope I get a tape recorder so I can practice asking questions for when I get grown. I want to work at NCIS like my dad and catch bad guys who do bad things to the millitery people. Merry Christmas Happy New Year! Yours very truly, Tony."_

Softly closing the journal, Tony set it on the bedside table and smiled.


End file.
